


Understood

by 17826



Series: Homecoming [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Amnesia, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, French, German, Identity Issues, Korean, M/M, Most of which i used online translators for so please correct me, Not major spoilers but like still, Polyglot!Bucky, References to Not Easily Conquered because I physically cannot stop myself, Romani, Romanian, Russian, Tagalog, polish, vietnamese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17826/pseuds/17826
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucy can't remember why Rogers keeps changing height and age; he can't remember what languages the Captain speaks; he can't remember if he really was in love with Steve or not.</p><p>Bucky's perspective in the first scene Steve and Bucky shared in civil war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Understood

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags , most translation was done in online translators so please please correct me if there are mistakes , and I'm sure there are ~ translators notes in chapter 2

Captain America was standing, back to him, head dropped and unaware of his surroundings. There were a million ways to kill him from here, Bucky noted, hidden in his vantage point down the hall. But he was also Steve, or at least that's what the museum in DC had said - Bucky wasn't so sure, had more versions of it in his head, knew that Captain America and Steve weren't the same thing - but either way, Bucky wasn't going to kill him. He didn't do that anymore.

 

But he was standing, back to him, in front of the fridge and he had to be reading the most recent notebook, he had to be, as Bucky felt the familiar spike of panic inside. He wondered how many languages Rogers spoke, had no idea from before. Definitely at least English. Maybe more. Maybe enough to read what was written there, the first few pages in Romanian before Bucky finally gave in and switched to French, finally writing what had seemed too secret to put on paper before. French was the only language he could do it in; it felt older and kinder than the others, or at least the bit he needed did. Tuer et la cible et les balles fell from his tongue easier than breathing, but some words felt softer and older, harder to remember but more important like he was taught them before any other language. La vie, le monde, c'est lui or maybe it should be elle, et mon dieu je n'ai jamais cru que le bras pourrait - actually, not that bit. But c'est lui, that was it. That was soft and old and true. Maybe French was his first language, maybe his ma taught him that before English, but that would mean Rogers knew it too and that would mean he could read what Bucky had written there. Or maybe the Captain had learnt French since then, after all it had been almost 70 years since then.

 

A page turned; Steve or the Captain or Rogers or whoever, he was looking through, still unaware of Bucky watching him. He might or might not understand the French and the Romanian, but he would know the English, the lists in the most recent pages, annotated with grand or petit ou vieux ou jeune, et costume ou chemise ou civvies or sais pas. The lists of everything he could remember being said by Steve, blonde hair and blue eyes and changing age and changing size.

Thanks, Buck. (Petit, civvies, jeune)

Now, why would I do that? (Grande, costume, moins jeune)

Your work has shaped the century. (Vieux, chemise blanc)

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. (Sais pas)

All trying to figure it out, as every other notebook had been, trying to figure out the true from the fake. But this notebook, this one in particular, this wasn't about убийства or familia or Brooklyn. This was the one he'd thought he could never write down, had maybe never written down, until he couldn't think about Brooklyn or familia or убийства without it, and trying to work it out in his head was giving him headaches. So there were diagrams and paragraphs and lists and pages torn from library books in the history section, trying to work it out, all annotated in French, all about si je lui ai dire ou si on a baiser et si je faire lui aimer ou si c'est seulement hydra encore. That happened a lot nowadays. He didn't know if his reactions were his reactions or hydra's programming. He didn't know if he had always hated sitting still or if that was just an ingrained imperative built in to make sure he got his mission done as soon as possible. He didn't know if he hated the government because they were trying to kill him or because he remembered Steve telling him to - both jeune, petit and vieux, chemise blanc - or because hydra did. So he didn't know if he loved Steve, or if hydra had told him to because it suited them to give him something to loose. Convenience.

 

Half of him wanted to reach out and ask, just find out from someone who would know, who was standing right in front of him. The part of him underneath that half was remembering where his hands fit when there was no one else around, Stevie's neck Stevie's ribs Stevie's wrist, and here there was no one else around, though there probably would be soon. But the other half of him didn't know if Steve would recognise his writing. He'd seen photocopies of letters he'd written to Steve before, in the museum in DC, and the looped elegant handwriting hadn't been familiar. In his notebooks, he went from uncertain printed letters to scrawl so rushed that even the alphabet being used had to be guessed at, and back again. Nothing elegant about the sudden rushes of memory and the sharp headaches they brought. He was certain he hadn't done that when Steve knew him, certain that the last time he'd been a continuous narrative was when Steve knew him. And he was certain of that, that Steve had known him.

 

"Understood."

 

The word sounded deadened in the silence of the room, a reply to something Bucky couldn't hear on the comms. What a word to describe the irony of this situation: of trying to figure out what Steve, who had known him, thought; of trying to figure out what Rogers recognised in the foreign words; of trying to figure out what the Captain wanted him to do now.

 

Steve was standing, back to him, in his one-room home, the biggest threat he'd faced in over 70 years, in full armour.

 

I'm not gunna fight you, he thought suddenly, in English and Russian and German and Tagalog and French. He didn't know what language he'd heard it in originally, or if it'd even been said, but he knew it was true. Steve, Captain America, Rogers, pain-in-my-ass, Stevie, Steve. Rogers, Steven G., that's R-O-G-E-R-S, yes sir, the man on the bridge. And he was reading Bucky's notebook.

 

Bucky had to stop him, but he didn't know why and he didn't know how. He took two steps forward and one to the left, his back against the wall and all exits within sight. Steve was standing over the space under the floorboards where his backpack was hidden with all his notebooks - Brooklyn, basic, the Howling Commandos, Chiến tranh Việt Nam, 한국전쟁, République démocratique du Congo, próby ucieczki, языки, убийства, тренируемые, familia, his timelines, all of them. Steve was standing over them, he didn't know what to say. He didn't have enough language for this.

 

And Steve knew, felt him there somehow. His eyes flicked over his shoulder once before he even looked up properly.

 

"Do you know me?"


	2. Translation Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again , as I said , please correct my translations , I am trying but I'm still only a bitter monolinguist

TRANSLATIONS (Chronological order)

Tuer [French] : to kill  
la cible [French] : target  
les balles [French] : bullets  
La vie [French] : life  
Le monde [French] : the world  
C'est elle / lui [French] : it's her / him  
Et mon dieu je n'ai jamais cru que le bras pourrait - [French] : And God I never thought the arm could -  
grand or petit ou vieux ou jeune, et costume ou chemise ou civvies or sais pas [French] : big or small or old or young, and suit or shirt or civvies or dunno  
убийства [Russian] : Assassinations  
familia [Romani] : family  
Moins petit [French] : less young  
Chemise blanc [Fench] : white shirt  
si je lui ai dire ou si on a baiser et si je faire lui aimer ou si c'est seulement hydra encore [French] : if I told him or if we fucked and if I do love him or if it's just hydra again  
Chiến tranh Việt Nam [Vietnamese] : the Vietnamese war  
한국전쟁 [Korean] : the Korean war  
République démocratique du Congo [French] : the Democratic Republic of the Congo  
próby ucieczki [Polish] : escape attempts  
языки [Russian] : languages  
тренируемые [Russian] : trainees/coached

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading ^^ I hope this scene in the movie ripped out ur heart as much as it ripped out mine :~) and yes I realise that by referring to the thirteen letters I am kinda making an au of an au by combining it with the canon universe but I don't care okay I love NEC so much it's practically canon to me anyway ~ all kudos and concrit are appreciated


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